


Alleyways and Payphone Calls

by ChameleonCircuit



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Homeless, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, War Vet Peter, homeless peter, starisi - Freeform, will add tags as required
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-06 21:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15894621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChameleonCircuit/pseuds/ChameleonCircuit
Summary: Everyone always asked Sonny how he had time for the homeless shelter. He explained that he’d got used to making enough time for law school and studying, that it was easy to make time to give back to a society that needed it for a couple of hours when he wasn’t on a case.It wasn’t a lie, per se, but it wasn’t the entire truth either. Sonny didn’t just enjoy giving back, or filling his spare time. He enjoyed seeing Peter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to my lovely betas, tobeconspicuous and keraunoscopia, and an endless thank you again to keraunoscopia and also mrbarbacarisi for being such big champions of this fic and encouraging me to write it.
> 
> I have this whole thing plotted, and some entire scenes written. It's just a matter of getting in and cleaning it up and tying everything together.

Everyone always asked Sonny how he had time for the homeless shelter. He explained that he’d got used to making enough time for law school and studying, that it was easy to make time to give back to a society that needed it for a couple of hours when he wasn’t on a case.

It wasn’t a lie, per se, but it wasn’t the entire truth either. Sonny didn’t just enjoy giving back or filling his spare time. He enjoyed seeing Peter.

He knew almost nothing about Peter beyond of his first name, but there was something about him that drew Sonny in every time. His smile was always wide and his eyes were always sparkling. He let Sonny talk his ear off, but more than that, he seemed to actively enjoy listening to whatever he had to say. Peter was beautiful in every way, and Sonny wanted to know more about him.

But it felt rude to ask. 

There were people at the shelter who were open about their stories, and that was fine. Sonny was always happy to listen, to lend an ear and a friendly smile when someone wanted it. But a lot of them stayed quiet, a lot of them didn’t talk about their personal lives because it was too painful, too shameful, too  _ personal _ . So Sonny never asked, he just listened.

But Peter never seemed to have much to say about himself. He once let slip something about a sister from his childhood, then he shut down almost instantly, leaving Sonny to fill the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them.

Peter always asked questions, though. 

He always asked about Sonny’s sisters, about his job, about his law degree, all of which Sonny was more than happy to talk about. He figured maybe it was enough to just offer conversation, even if it was one-sided. Peter didn’t seem to have anyone else, and if Sonny could be a kind of familiar comfort to him, then he was happy to be that.

Which was how he found himself, once more, telling Peter stories from his childhood, dredging things up from the depths of his memory just to see Peter smile, to see him laugh, to see him light up like Sonny was the best thing in his life. It made his stomach clench thinking that that may be the truth, but not for the reasons Sonny wished he was.

Sonny was mid-sentence when Peter froze completely, entire body tensing, the muscles in his jaw working. The change was so sudden, so intense, that Sonny felt breathless for a moment; winded by the tension and fear overriding Peter as his eyes clouded over. Sonny swallowed hard, noticing the tremor in Peter’s hands. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind was the echo of a car backfiring, and he realized that whatever Peter was experiencing was likely PTSD.

He glanced around, unsure of what to do, but everyone was carrying on like usual, as though nothing happened; a harsh juxtaposition to the rigid angles of Peter’s body, the tension and fear radiating from him. Sonny didn’t know what to do, but he knew he had to do something before Peter reacted any further.

Slowly, he placed the pair of tongs he was holding down on the tray and moved around the bench. He positioned himself so he was standing right in front of Peter, making sure to keep a steady distance, but not too far that he couldn’t reach out and touch. He shifted his head in front of Peter’s line of sight, taking a deep breath in when he received no reaction at all.

“Peter?” Sonny said, voice barely above a whisper.

Peter didn’t respond, but his eyes seemed to focus on Sonny, so Sonny smiled at him, hoping it was enough.

“It was just a car backfiring. Okay?”

He wasn’t really sure if he was doing the right thing. He just wanted to reach out and touch, but he was worried that would only make things worse. Peter was still staring at him, and Sonny could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

“You’re in New York,” he whispered, moving an inch closer. When Peter didn’t flinch in any way, Sonny moved a little closer so there was barely any space between them. “You’re in New York, with me.”

Peter nodded, clenching his fists by his side, face twisting in what Sonny thought was possibly meant to be a smile, but it looked almost painful instead.

“Let’s go somewhere more quiet.”

Sonny slowly reached out and took a hold of Peter’s arm, leading him out into the back alley behind the shelter. It wasn’t nice, or even particularly peaceful, but there were no other people around and it was as fresh as the air could get on the ground in New York City.

Peter seemed to relax a little once they got outside. Sonny could still tell he was hyper-alert, body still tense, but his breathing seemed to have calmed down, and he didn’t look on the verge of action or panic anymore. Sonny felt himself relax, just a little, at the change.

“Sorry,” Peter muttered, leaning back against the wall. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“You haven’t eaten,” Sonny reminded him softly, tilting his head to meet Peter’s eyes with a smile.

Peter shrugged, and Sonny could tell he felt uncomfortable, could tell he was embarrassed, even though he had absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Sonny blurted out before he could think better of it.

Peter stared at him, and Sonny stared right back, his heart rate spiking as he realized he had chosen the absolute worst timing to ask Peter out on a date. Because he couldn’t deny that’s what it was. A desire to be close, a desire to be intimate, to be just the two of them, to get to know each other outside of the confines of the shelter.

“I don’t need your pity.” There was no aggression or bite to Peter’s words, but somehow that felt worse, and Sonny’s heart sank.

“I don’t pity you,” he said softly.

“If I need to eat, I can eat here.”

“That’s not--“

“I’m no different to anyone else in there, I don’t--“

“You are,” Sonny insisted, barely resisting the urge to grab hold of Peter, to physically make him understand.

“I’m really not.” Peter’s tone was so self-deprecating, so tinged with sadness, that Sonny felt his heart clench.

“You are,” Sonny whispered, voice scratchy. “To me.”

Peter stared at him for a moment before a very small, but very real smile broke out across his face. Sonny took a deep breath in.  _ All or nothing. _

“I’m asking you out. On a date,” Sonny said quietly, puffing his chest out a little in an attempt to appear far more confident than he felt. “Will you have dinner with me?”

Time seemed to go agonizingly slow. Peter’s smile slowly slipped from his face, and Sonny was about to backtrack when Peter blurted out, “Me?”

“Yes.” Sonny laughed, tilting his head to the side. “You.”

“I haven’t been asked out since college.” Peter huffed out a laugh, and Sonny felt relief flood him knowing that at least Peter wasn’t angry, even if he wasn’t interested.

Sonny was on the verge of making an excuse to head back inside, to leave him alone, when Peter said, “I’d love to.”

He sounded shy and uncertain, but Sonny had never known him to be ingenuine. A warmth settled between his ribs, lodging against his heart.

“Great. I’m finished here in half an hour if you can wait that long?”

“I’ll help.”

Half an hour later they left the shelter together. Sonny knew he ought to feel good, to feel happy, but he could sense Peter’s hesitance as he walked beside him.

“It doesn’t have to be a date,” he offered quietly, nudging Peter’s shoulder with his own.

“It’s not that.” Peter stopped with a sigh and gestured at his clothes. “I’m not exactly fit for a restaurant.”

Sonny smiled softly at him, moving in a little closer. “We can get takeout if you’d feel more comfortable with that. But I promise where I’m taking you won’t mind.”

Peter fiddled with the hem of his shirt, looking increasingly nervous.

“How about we get takeout,” Sonny offered, more as a decision already made than a decision Peter had to make himself.

Peter nodded slowly, but he still looked uncertain, and Sonny didn’t really know what to do. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had made Peter feel like he had to say yes, like he owed Sonny something. Or, perhaps, that Peter had simply made the decision based on a desire for something unrelated to Sonny, for better food, for something nice for a change, and now felt as though he couldn’t go through with it.

He opened his mouth to offer to get Peter home safe, but his brain caught up in time, and his stomach dropped with the realization that Peter didn’t really have a home. He knew that, obviously, but the reality of it had somehow never factored in until now.

“Peter,” Sonny started gently, wary of the return of the rapid rise and fall of Peter’s chest. “You don’t owe me anything. You realize that, right? You can walk away from this, no hard feelings.”

Peter didn’t respond. He just stepped back until his back hit the wall, and he leaned against it. He was still breathing too fast, but aside from that he honestly looked so composed, almost fine. If Sonny hadn’t been paying such close attention he wouldn’t have known anything was wrong, which is a thought that worried him. The thought that Peter could hide so well, was probably used to hiding, made him feel strangely hollow.

Sonny was desperate not to make Peter feel uncomfortable. But the truth was he really fucking liked this sweet, quiet guy, and a part of him really didn’t want to let this go. The thought of just walking away and letting him go back to whatever corner of the city he was sleeping in, without proper food, without proper comfort, made Sonny physically ache. But he wasn’t sure there was much else he could do, because Peter seemed so spooked now.

“Peter--“

“What do you want from me?” Peter cut him off, voice raised. His eyes had gone wide and he looked close to hyperventilating, and the thought that he’d made someone feel this way made Sonny’s eyes sting.

“I wanna be your friend,” Sonny said, voice scratchy. “If that’s okay?”

“You...” Peter softened a little, though his breathing was still too fast. “What?”

“I’d like to be your friend,” he repeated. “I don’t need anything from you other than that. But even if that’s too much, that’s fine. Anything is fine. What I want more than anything is for you to feel comfortable. Whether it’s with or without me.”

Peter laughed a little, but it sounded a little wet and more than a little exhausted. “Why the hell would you wanna be my friend?”

“Because you’re kind, and you have the kind of smile that’s contagious,” Sonny started, tilting his head to catch Peter’s eye. “Because you listen, and you give whatever you can, even though you really have nothing to give to begin with. Because I like you, and I’d like to get to know you.”

There was a beat of silence between them, and Sonny felt his heart lodge itself somewhere in his throat as he waited for a response. He watched as Peter’s bottom lip trembled a little before his jaw clenched, and he wondered if he shouldn’t have said anything, if he should have kept things simple.

He opened his mouth to speak, to offer to take Peter back to the shelter, anything to fix whatever damage had been done, but he was cut off by Peter’s body shuddering with a barely-suppressed sob, and Sonny’s words died on his tongue.

“I’m sorry,” Peter gasped out in between heaving breaths, each rattling on the way in. “I’m-I’m s-sorry.”

Each gasp sent a sympathetic jolt right to Sonny’s gut, deep, low, and riddled with guilt. “Don’t be. Hey. It’s okay.”

Slowly, he moved in, first just touching Peter’s shoulder, then wrapping his arms around him, grip loose in case Peter wanted to pull away. Instead, Peter leaned into the touch, grabbing hold of the front of Sonny’s shirt as he sagged against Sonny’s body, practically becoming a dead weight in his arms.

As Peter’s body heaved, Sonny became aware of people staring at them as they walked by. As much as he didn’t care, he figured Peter would care if he knew, and he pulled him in tighter, attempting to shield him from the world in the only way he knew how.

“It’s okay,” he whispered against Peter’s ear, rubbing his back gently.

Not knowing what else to do, Sonny kept holding him, rubbing circles on his back, whispering that it would be okay, until Peter’s breathing evened out again. As Peter calmed down his body seemed to grow more tense, and Sonny could feel that uncomfortable hesitation building again.

“You owe me nothing, okay?” Sonny muttered furiously, loosening his grip a little so Peter could move away if he wanted. “You’re always allowed to say no if something makes you uncomfortable, or you’re just not ready. But please come back to mine. Please. I have a shower you can use. My couch is comfortable.”

Peter pulled out of Sonny’s grip, hesitating for a moment, and Sonny felt sure he was going to cry again. Instead, he nodded slowly, a small, broken-looking smile forming on his face.

Cautiously, Sonny reached out, taking Peter’s hand loosely in his own. When Peter gripped back a little tighter it was like a jolt of electricity straight to Sonny’s heart, causing it to swell.

It was such a small gesture, but after the emotional rollercoaster the last hour had been, the relief of feeling Peter’s hand in his, seeing him smile, even with his tear-stained cheeks, was borderline overwhelming.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to keraunoscopia for acting as beta

Sonny led Peter into the back of a cab, not breaking contact for a single moment. The ride to his apartment was silent, laced with uncertainty that he was sure was coming from both sides. It was hard to gauge whether this was a good idea or not, but he knew that if he didn’t do this, if he just let Peter wander back into the night, back to whichever corner of the city he slept in, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.

They were silent the entire drive, but a sense of familiar ease seemed to wash over them again in the time it took to get to Sonny’s apartment, and by the time they were stepping out onto the sidewalk, still hand in hand, Sonny thought maybe there was a chance that this could be normal, that this could be two friends just hanging out, without the weight of whatever burden Peter had to carry looming over them.

“This is me,” he said quietly as he fished his keys out, finally letting go of Peter’s hand so he could work the deadbolt. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He took a deep breath in as he hung his coat up, sneaking a glance at his guest. Peter looked a little overwhelmed again, this time in a more positive way, but Sonny still felt a pang deep inside his chest. He had no idea what had happened to Peter for him to end up on the streets; he had no idea how long he’d even been homeless, but he was sure it must have felt strange to step into a furnished, well-lived in apartment after roughing it for any amount of time, regardless of what kind of background you had.

He grabbed the largest shirt and sweatpants he could find in his closet, mostly attempting to account for the bulk Sonny knew he carried under his loose, ratty clothing. When he returned, Peter was running a gentle hand across the spines of the books on his shelf, eyes wide and glistening.

“Bathroom’s the door on the right,” Sonny said quietly, handing the clothing to Peter as he nudged his head in the direction of the hall. “Let me know if you need anything. You’re welcome to use anything you see.”

Peter nodded, mumbling something that was probably a thanks, and headed for the bathroom.

Suddenly, without the company, but knowing Peter was just in the other room, probably overthinking everything, Sonny didn’t really know what to do. He settled for ordering a pizza and making himself comfortable on the couch with a book he’d been reading for what felt like forever.

Instead of reading, however, his mind wandered; to the look of absolute fear in Peter’s eyes at the shelter, to the pure anxiety he exuded on the way to dinner, to the uncertainty, to the way Peter had broken down at the mere notion of selfless kindness, to the tension in every line of his body as though he were on high alert. Sonny swallowed hard at that thought. Peter was probably always on high alert, having to be ready to defend himself at a moments notice against intrusion, against anger, against senseless violence.

A knock at the door signaling the pizza’s arrival snapped him from his thoughts, and he glanced at the time, wondering briefly if Peter was okay. Just as he was stepping out of the kitchen with plates and the boxes of pizza in hand, Peter stepped into view.

Sonny felt himself freeze completely as he took Peter in. He would have been lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what Peter might look like with his hair dripping wet, fresh from a shower. But the Peter in front of him was entirely shaven, patchy excuse for a beard and messy mop of hair gone in favor of a clean shave and a buzz cut. He looked like a completely different man.

It was the soft, shy smile on Peter’s face that floored Sonny the most, though. He looked pleased with himself, but shy about it, like perhaps he shouldn’t, and, not for the first time, Sonny wanted to kiss him. He looked absolutely beautiful in that moment, far more than any moment before it.

“I, uh, hope you don’t mind,” Peter said, gesturing to his head.

“Nah. It’s fine,” Sonny breathed out before clearing his throat, blinking to snap himself out of his half daze. “I hope you like pizza? It came while you were in the shower. I figured you can’t go wrong with pepperoni, but if--“

“Pepperoni pizza sounds great.”

“Great.”

Sonny took just a brief moment to allow his eyes to rake over Peter’s body, taking in the way his shirt clung to Peter’s biceps, yet hung loosely from his stomach. As Peter joined him on the lounge, depositing his bundle of belongings on the floor beside him, Sonny caught sight of what he was sure was identification tags nestled amongst Peter’s clothing, and his stomach twisted.

Suddenly, everything about that night made more sense. Everything from the car backfiring to the way Peter had broken down over the thought of dinner screamed PTSD, and he realized just how much Peter must be struggling to adapt to life outside of the military.

He wished he could make it better, wished he could be the person Peter could lean on, as he clearly had no one else, but he knew it wasn’t that easy. He could feel anger bubbling up inside of him at the reminder of how many people like Peter were out there, struggling, because the government didn’t give a damn about looking after them.

He couldn’t help but stare at Peter, take in his new look. With his head shaved, Sonny could picture him in a uniform, standing proud with his fellow soldiers, and he felt a strange ache deep inside his chest.

As though Peter had been reading his thoughts, he reached down, plucking the tags from his pile, running his thumb over the engraved lettering before handing them to Sonny.

“I know, kinda pathetic isn’t it?” Peter muttered, glancing down at his hands. “To go from serving our country to living on the streets.”

Sonny shook his head, fingers brushing over the cool metal in his hands. “No. It’s kinda pathetic how we fail to look after our soldiers when they come back home.”

“Yeah, well...” he trailed off with a shrug, grabbing a slice of pizza.

Sonny angled himself towards Peter, shifting a little closer so their knees were almost touching. He felt his heart flutter at the contact. “You’re kind of amazing, you know?”

Peter stared at him for a moment before shaking his head, focusing on the pizza in his hand. “I’m not. I’m expected to be proud, but I’m not sure--“

“I don’t mean because you’re military. I mean in general,” Sonny said with a laugh, nudging Peter’s knee lightly. “You smile at everyone, all the time. You make sure the other people at the shelter are okay, are well looked after. You put everyone before yourself. After everything, you must have dealt with, and you’ve not been tainted by it. You’re amazing.”

Peter swallowed, and Sonny tracked the movement, eyes fixed to the way the muscles in Peter’s jaw worked as he tried to keep his emotions in check. But he didn’t respond. He just continued to eat his pizza in silence, and Sonny couldn’t help but wonder if he’d gone too far, said too much.

After an awkward silence, Sonny unable to tear his eyes away from Peter’s face, unable to shake the strange feeling of guilt curling in the pit of his stomach, he placed the tags on the coffee table between their pizza boxes. All he really wanted to do was hold Peter. 

Normally when he fancied someone he'd be sitting there itching to kiss them all night. He’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind multiple times, but right now he just wanted to hold him close and not let go. His heart ached with the weight of what Peter was lacking, all the things he didn’t have but deserved more than most. After a moment of reflection, he placed the guilt he was feeling. This was Peter’s pain, Peter’s burden, and it had nothing to do with him. It wasn’t his job to take it on board, to make it about him.

"I should...erm...go..." Peter muttered after his second slice of pizza.

Sonny sighed. "Look, Peter, I'm not gonna make you stay. Obviously, that's up to you. But I have spare sheets to make up the lounge, and I have a spare toothbrush, and they're there if you wanna use them. Okay?"

Peter nodded slowly, but he looked uncertain.

"You know you can talk to me, right? About anything?” Sonny prompted. “I know I talk a lot, but I'm a good listener too. I only talk so much ‘cause you seem to relax more when I don't shut up, for whatever reason"

Peter laughed at that, prompting Sonny to laugh too, and he felt some of the tension ease between them.

"I like listening to you talk,” Peter admitted quietly.

"Good, 'cause I like talking.”

Peter laughed again before allowing himself to finally relax back into the lounge.

"Do you want a drink? I've got beer, but I've also got juice, milk, and water. Or I can just make the lounge up for you now and go to bed so you can--"

"Beer would be nice. And water,” Peter said, before hastily adding, “Please."

Sonny nodded, flashing Peter a grin before getting up and heading to the kitchen, a warm sense of happiness blossoming behind his ribcage, leaving him feeling a little lighter for it.

Settling back on the lounge, Sonny handed Peter his beer, placing the glass of water on the table, giving him some time to take a sip and relax before he started. He wanted to know everything about the beautiful, mysterious man he’d been thinking about since the moment he met him. He started gentle, questions about what he was like in college, when he was a child, providing anecdotes of his own when Peter seemed uncertain.

Slowly, Peter seemed to relax into the conversation, going into more and more detail about his life, about the things he clearly held close to his heart.

He talked about joining the military while he was in college, just after 9/11, because it felt like the right thing to do at the time. He told Sonny about his sister, about how she was in a facility upstate being treated for schizophrenia, about the fact that she doesn’t even remember who he is, let alone have the ability to house him in any way. He told Sonny about his Dad dying while he was overseas, and that his Dad’s money went entirely into supporting his sister, into making sure she was well looked after.

Sonny listened, and the more Peter spoke, the more comfortable he seemed to look, relaxing into the worn lounge, body angled towards Sonny, open in a way Sonny had never seen him before.

As their laughter died down, talking about their college years, something in Peter’s expression shifted. Sonny took a sip of his beer, giving Peter a moment.

“Dad didn’t even know most of that,” he said quietly, voice muffled by the rim of his bottle. “He never really had much time for me. He was an ADA here in New York, so he was...well, I suppose you know,” Peter broke off with a small laugh. “You know the hours.”

Sonny snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure.”

Peter sighed, fingers tapping the side of the bottle lightly. “Everyone expected me to be like him. I never wanted to. But when I came back, it was the only thing I could think to do. It felt right. But school...” Peter shrugged, looking away, shoulders hunching in a little.

Sonny could feel him closing off, and he tried to appear relaxed, tried not to let it show as he inched a little closer, their knees brushing once more with the movement.

“I just couldn’t,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “The classrooms made me feel claustrophobic. I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t hold down any kind of job. I felt--” his voice broke off, and he swapped the beer for the glass of water, taking a large mouthful, cradling the glass in his hands. “I felt useless. And eventually, y’know, I couldn’t keep staying with friends, being in the way.”

Sonny nodded, his heart clenching. He refrained from making the obvious comments, about how it was to be expected, about how it wasn’t his fault, because he knew it wouldn’t help, and he knew Peter wouldn’t want to hear it. Instead, he inched even closer, leaning into Peter’s space now, to rest a hand on his knee. When Peter didn’t flinch away from the contact, he rubbed his thumb in a gentle, soothing circle.

Peter shifted again, not moving away, just looking away, somewhere distant, eyes a little unfocused. “Sometimes I wish I’d come back in a body bag,” he whispered, and Sonny’s grip tightened on Peter’s knee unintentionally. “People, they look at me,” Peter continued, voice growing hoarse, barely above a whisper, “like I’m nothing, with disgust, or pity. I’d felt so proud to defend my country, but now I’m left with...with whatever this is.”

Peter took a deep breath in, releasing it slowly, still purposefully avoiding eye contact. “That’s why I keep coming back. Because you...you just smile. I’m just another person when I’m with you.”

Sonny could hear the waver in Peter’s voice, watched as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed down on his emotion, jaw clenched with determination. His eyes were dry, but Sonny could tell it was a near thing.

He gave Peter’s knee a firm squeeze. “I’m glad you came back.”

Peter huffed out a wet sounding laugh before turning to look at Sonny, offering a smile that made his eyes shine. “I’m glad I did too, for the most part.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Sonny insisted. “I know this place is small, but I’m almost never here. I definitely never have anyone over.”

"Sonny, I can't--"

"You can,” Sonny interrupted quickly, finally releasing his hold of Peter’s knee. “I understand if you decide not to, but you can. I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it."

Peter snorted. "I'm pretty sure you would."

Sonny laughed at that and shook his head a little. "Listen, I always mean what I say, even if sometimes I'm in way over my head. But this is easy. This is just having a friend stay with me."

"Until when?" The uncertainty in Peter’s voice sent a pang straight to his stomach.

"What do you mean?"

Peter looked down, fiddling with the hem of his jumper. "I can't just sleep on your couch forever.”

"Day by day,” Sonny said with a soft smile, letting his armrest behind Peter on the back of the lounge, close enough for Peter to feel the presence without actually being touched. “We'll take it day by day"

Peter shook his head but didn’t say anything else, and so Sonny let it slide, knowing he couldn’t convince Peter, even if he desperately wanted to.

They sat in silence for a moment, knees still touching, Sonny’s arm still draped loosely over the back of the lounge, fingertips brushing Peter’s shoulder, and Sonny suddenly realized just how badly he wanted to kiss him. He tilted his head but bit down on the desire completely when he saw just how exhausted Peter looked.

He let his hand drop to Peter’s shoulder fully, giving it a small squeeze before heaving himself off the lounge, gathering the bottles in his hand to take to the kitchen before getting linen to make up the couch.

When he came back, he hesitated at the edge of the couch, leaning forward to rest his hands on the arm-rest, linen slung over the back of the lounge. "I've got work in the morning, so I'm gonna head to bed. If you're hungry or thirsty or whatever, just help yourself to anything." He gestured loosely down the hall, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, though he wasn’t sure why. "Um... My room's just on the left if you need anything."

Peter nodded, the uncertainty back in his eyes again, and Sonny felt his stomach curl uncomfortably at the thought of leaving him alone when all he wanted to do was take him in his arms and never let go. "Um...Good night..."

The next morning, the moment Sonny made his way into the living room, he knew Peter had left, and his heart sank with the instant realization. The sheets were folded, and the clothes he let Peter wear were sitting on top of them, and Sonny honestly wished he'd kept them so he'd have something newer and thicker and warmer to wear because the nights were getting cooler. 

He'd been looking forward to waking up to company. He'd set his alarm a little earlier so he could make them both breakfast. But Peter was definitely  gone, almost as though he'd never been there to begin with, and Sonny felt empty.


End file.
